


of vultures and vigilantes

by Ada_L



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Diggle is over it, F/M, Season 2, canon-compliant (I think)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada_L/pseuds/Ada_L
Summary: Oliver Queen, who shows up for a third of his business meetings on time (at best, and as the person responsible for coming up with plausible excuses for the other two-thirds, she would know) because he is on a mission to prove that the concept of time only exists for less genetically and financially blessed mortals, is hassling her about being late.Forget going home, she’s sticking around just so she can smack him upside the head when he returns to the Foundry.Short early S2 oneshot.
Relationships: John Diggle & Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	of vultures and vigilantes

**Author's Note:**

> I feel guilty about the next chapter of my S1 AU taking so long. I think this is canon-compliant for early S2, but I wrote it in a hurry a while ago. It's light on details and reflects my general frustration with the “Felicity as Oliver’s executive assistant” storyline. 
> 
> I don’t own anything.

Felicity tucks her coat around her as she slides out of the car and slams the door, still half-wondering how she ended up at Verdant when all she’s heard for the last twenty minutes is Oliver scolding her for being late.

_Oliver Queen_ , who shows up for a third of his business meetings on time ( _at best_ , and as the person responsible for coming up with plausible excuses for the other two-thirds, she would know) because he is on a mission to prove that the concept of time only exists for less genetically and financially blessed mortals, is hassling her about being late. 

Forget going home, she’s sticking around just so she can smack him upside the head when he returns to the Foundry. 

“Oliver, I said I am _on my way_ ,” she fumes into the comm as she stalks toward the club’s back entrance. “And I am only one minute closer than the last time you asked, which was _one minute ago_ , but that is beside the point because the point is you don’t get to yell at me for being late when you’re the one who left me behind to deal with our not-so-friendly neighborhood vulture.”

“I left to stop an arms deal,” Oliver snaps. “Which is why I am waiting for you to unlock the door, Felicity.” 

“Which _I_ would already have done if you hadn’t left me behind, Oliver!”

“I didn’t have time for Isabel,” Oliver says, his voice clipped. “I do have time for you to unlock this door.”

“What Oliver is trying to say,” Digg interjects over her strangled noise of frustration, “is that he apologizes for leaving. And he’s sorry for whatever Isabel said.”

“Well, she only implied that I got my job on my back _once_ , and we had a entire conversation,” Felicity admits. “Thanks for the translation, Digg.”

Even over the comm, Oliver’s voice is strained. “Felicity, I don’t -”

“Use me for sex? Don’t worry, Oliver, I’ve noticed my virtue is intact.” She punches in the passcode and pulls open the door with more force than necessary. “But I’ll be sure to mention it the next time Isabel asks if you’re giving me the night off.”

*********************

By the time Felicity reaches her desk, she’s decided Oliver is going to have a Friday afternoon meeting with Isabel every week until he comes to his senses, which means Oliver is going to have a Friday afternoon meeting with Isabel every week until the end of time.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, if you do not stop talking _right now,_ every email you send for the rest of your life will include a cat video.”

“Don’t use my middle name.”

“Don’t use me to get out of talking to Isabel!”

“So we’re having that kind of night,” Digg interrupts, sounding resigned.

“I’m the one who had to talk to her,” Felicity says, “we’ll have the kind of night I say we’re having.”

She’s already turned red by the time she finishes her sentence, so she ignores Digg’s barely disguised laughter and Oliver’s smug silence and focuses on letting herself into the building’s security system. It’s easier than she expects - this particular aspiring arms purveyor and her lackeys are no smarter or more imaginative than their many uninspired and unsuccessful predecessors.

Felicity tilts her head, trying and failing to remember how many that is, exactly. “Are we getting too predictable?” 

Digg clears his throat. “Too predictable?”

“Sure,” she says, “this isn’t the first arms deal we’ve broken up this year. It’s not even our first arms deal this _month_. Maybe we should mix it up, keep the bad guys guessing, you know? We live in Starling City, it’s not like we don’t have options. Drug dealers, burglars, predatory lenders -”  


Digg snorts in amusement. “Girl, did you really just say predatory lenders?”

“Okay, fine, maybe not,” she concedes. “But there have to be at least a couple of bullies Oliver could scare straight.”

“ _Felicity_.”

“Well, it’s nothing to be _ashamed_ of, Oliver,” Felicity says, grinning. “It’s not a big deal, I’m sure it happens to every -"

“Felicity,” Oliver orders over Digg’s unrestrained laughter. “The _door_.”

“Yes, fine, unlocking the door - and let’s all remember I could have done this already _if you hadn’t left me at the office_ \- in three, two...”

She leans back, flexes her fingers, and enjoys the very satisfying next five seconds until Oliver’s bewildered voice sounds over the comm. “Felicity, the door is still locked.”

“You are going to wait,” Felicity says, “for as long as I spent thinking you hadn’t seen my _seven_ text messages asking you to come back upstairs. You are going to wait just like I waited for you.” She pauses, tipping her head back with a sigh. “In vain. Like an idiot.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver growls. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Sure we do,” Digg cuts in. “It’s not like I’m sitting out here alone. In a van. In the middle of winter.”

“Alright, fine,” she grumbles. “But only for you, John.”

In reality, there’s nothing predictable about Oliver and his arrows facing off with a roomful of men carrying guns, not even now that she’s done her best to tilt the confrontation in his favor -and contrary to all other evidence, Felicity does actually know how to hold her tongue. She keeps almost silent until the guys say they’re on their way back to the Foundry.

Oliver arrives first, and he hasn’t even reached the bottom of the stairs before he says, “I’m sorry about Isabel.”

Felicity, who had been studiously ignoring his approach, swivels in her chair, not entirely sure how to reply - that’s not what Oliver had said any of the six times she rehearsed this conversation in the last hour.

“I’m going to get rid of her,” he adds, putting away his bow and pulling off his jacket before he turns to face her again. “Soon.”

Felicity lets a bitter laugh escape. “She owns half your company, Oliver.”

He doesn’t answer, just walks toward her until he’s so close they’re practically touching. He holds out a hand, and she studies his face before reluctantly letting him pull her to standing.

“I promise,” he says. “I just need some help from my Girl Wednesday.”

“ _Friday_ , Oliver,” Felicity groans, smacking him in the arm. “For the hundredth time.”

“I know,” he replies, leaning somehow even closer and giving her that small smile she is going to stop loving any day now. “I read your weekly reminder emails.”

“Oh, so you read _those_ emails,” Felicity says, leaning back. “It’s all the rest you pitch overboard.”

Oliver frowns. “I read all your emails.”

It’s a lie, even if it’s a well-intentioned one, and Felicity looks at him in exasperation. “Isabel isn’t going anywhere, Oliver.”

“I promise,” he repeats, ignoring her valid point entirely, but he looks so sure and so earnest that she releases a shaky breath and gives him a weak smile in return.

“Yeah,” she tells him. “Goodnight, Oliver.”

*********************

The next morning, when Felicity arrives at her desk - another day she’ll spend trapped in this fishbowl of an office, surrounded by people who make her skin crawl, muddling her way through this job she detests with every fiber of her being - she finds a cup of coffee and a note in unmistakable handwriting.

_I appreciate you_

Looking up, she realizes Oliver is already at his desk, frowning over a file, which - if it’s the one she left on his desk last night - he most definitely doesn’t understand.

Felicity watches him for a long moment before picking up the coffee.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, sinking into her chair and taking her first sip. “Yeah, okay.”

fin

*********************

*********************

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
